“Ya think that will solve it, then? Ya suppose a century of Rosewood’s mysteries’ll give themselves up ta’ya?”
Stunned, Zach couldn’t answer but attempted a question of his own. “Ha-how’did you…”
It’s my job’ta know, son.” He walked to the tabernacle and pulled out a vial of holy anointing oil. “Besides, it was all over the TV. Good Morning Chi-Town did a story about a tree burnin’ down there last night.”
“Are you shi—” He caught himself. “Are you serious?”
“I am serious, boy. I make it’a point not to shite while standin’ at this altar.”
“What did they….did they say if…”
“It’s TV, son. They didn’t say nothin’. Now c’mere. C’mon. Before I change my mind.” He motioned Zach closer. “Bow yer head.”
Zach did.
“Most holy God, bless this oil and he who wears it. May it strengthen, consecrate and preserve so that he may resist contagion with the sins of the world and may it fill him with grace so that he may be Your dear disciple and faithful witness now and forever. Amen.”
“Amen,” Zach repeated. “Oh, Father, what about Ray? He’s working on the case, too.”
“Ugh,” Macginty sighed. “That lug’ll be fine. Here’s hoping that somethin’ happens’ta force him away from that den of sin he’s workin’in.”
“You know about that?”
Macginty grinned. “It’s my job’ta know, son. Now off with ya before I decide’ta put you ta work around here.”
Zach flipped open his cell phone. He had turned it to silent mode before entering Saint Francis. There were two missed call notifications from Rebecca and three text messages—one from her, one from Ray and one from Sara as well.
Ray: Camera 6 as u thought. Was an 8 sec pause b4 & 6 sec one after cam 8.
Rebecca: Radkey said no, but call me asap for amazing news!
Sara: G’Mrning Chi-Twn was here. Others likely to follow.
Zach skipped down the concrete steps of Saint Francis and hit the “call back” button.
Rebecca didn’t even answer with a hello. “She said I could come over tonight! I can bring my own camera and someone to film it and set up equipment.”
“Radkey agreed? I thought you said that she said ‘no.’”
Rebecca let loose an uncharacteristic giggle. “I’m way ahead of myself,” she panted. “I did my best to convince her, but she just wouldn’t have any part of us coming over.”
Zach had gotten to his car and stopped dead in his tracks. “I thought you just said she said—”
“Wait, listen,” Rebecca transmitted. “Radkey said ‘no.’ I got really weird vibes from her. Didn’t she come across to you as creepy?”
Zach thought about the elderly lady. He recalled that she had vaguely resembled Evelyn, and that their mannerisms were similar. But that was it.
“Creepy? No.”
“Okay, well anyway, I left Mrs. Radkey’s and just before I got into my car, the other woman stopped me. Mrs. Foster? I guess she goes by Ginny. She told me you’d be shocked.”
Zach couldn’t believe Joey’s mom had pulled a one-hundred and eighty degree turnaround. “Shocked doesn’t begin to cover it…”
“She said to tell you sorry for being such a biotch yesterday. She said after you left, she researched who we were and felt bad. Then, last night, I guess she had a pretty traumatic experience.”
“What happened?”
“She wouldn’t say. Well, I didn’t press her for it because I didn’t have a camera. I told her we’d talk tonight. I didn’t want her changing her mind on me, so I made her promise I could come with one person to operate a mini digital camera. Wanna hear the funniest part?”
“Shoot.”
“It was Good Morning Chi-Town that got us the gig?”
“Get out.”
“Well, in a roundabout way, I guess. Ginny said that things got so bad last night that she prayed for the first time in years. She said she prayed for a sign. Then, the first thing she did this morning was flick on the TV and—”
“And there we were, both across the street and on TV.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Rebecca said. “Anyway, who should I bring over to help me?”
Without hesitation the name spilled from Zach’s lips. “Angel.”
“Okay. Really?”
“Yes. Please tell him I said so, and that I’ll be back there in about an hour to speak with him about it.”
“Okay!” she said. “I’ve got a really strong feeling something good is going to come of this.”
“Speaking of something good,” Zach said into the phone, “before you go tonight, I’m looking forward to your presentation on Soul Snatchers.”
There was a moment of static.
“You sure know how to put a damper on a girl’s good news.”
“Sorry but—”
“I know. I know. And I’m already collecting information.”
“Cool.”
“And Zach, if this is the case of a Soul Snatcher, we may be encountering something more powerful than anything we’ve ever dealt with.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Need 2 talk 2 u offsite. Meet @ muses @ 1?
Zach had gotten the text message from Angel just minutes after hanging up with Rebecca.
Young people packed Muses Coffee House. There wasn’t an empty table. Chicago State University was just a mile or so up the road, and south Pullman was the trendiest area within a quick driving distance.
Zach hoped to also catch Evelyn there early, but as neither she nor Angel were anywhere to be seen, he placed an order and waited out on the deserted patio that overlooked Rosewood’s backside. He’d just taken the first sip of his delicious beverage when Angel rambled up.
“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to meet with you offsite. To warn you and accompany you back through the ‘crowd.’” Angel made quote signs in the air using his fingers. “Looks like maybe some of our fans have made their way here for coffee.”
Zach motioned towards the door with his cup. He led them outside and around the corner to the deserted patio that overlooked Rosewood’s backside. Before Zach could speak, Angel tore into him.
“All due respect, Zach, why am I being cast aside on this investigation? I can understand your placating Matthew with more airtime last night, but tonight I’m banished from my own control center to cover some side project? What gives, mi hijo?”
Zach focused all of his attention on Angel’s eyes. Childhood advice from Monsignor Macginty ran through his head: First, make sure you’re right, son, and then go full flurry ahead.
“What gives?” Zach repeated. “What gives is that there is a traitor on my show. My show! The show I put blood and sweat and tears into. The show my PhD studies depend on. A traitor. Someone tampering with equipment and planting false evidence!”
Zach had managed the entire speech without smelling a warning of Sailor Black. Angel’s mouth opened and clicked closed. The glossy sheen of his eyes resembled that of billiard balls.
“And I think,” Zach continued, “you know who the traitor is.”
Angel’s mouth agape, he managed only to waggle his head in denial. That’s when Zach hit him with the zinger. “I told Matthew it was you.”
“What? No way…boss, it’s not—”
“I know it’s not you,” Zach said. “It’s him.”
“Who? Matthew? No, it can’t be.”
“Why not? You saw how drunk Pierre was last night. Do you think he was in any kind of condition to plan or execute a scheme to falsify evidence?”
Angel’s lips pursed. He put his hand on his thick neck. He wiped from the base of his throat up over his pock-scarred face to his forehead. “Could that have been an act?”
“An act? Why would you say that?”
Angel began to perspire. Considering the temperature was only about sixty degrees, either he was about to lie or admit to one. “Boss, remember how I told y
ou I came on at 6 AM?”
“I do.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened.”
“Exactly how did it happen, Angel?”
“Pierre passed out. Matthew couldn’t wake him when it was Pierre’s turn to stand guard, so Matthew covered most of his shift.”
Zach knew the important question. What time had Matthew passed the torch? Instead, Zach chose to wait and dig for more information first. “Why did Matthew cover for Pierre?”
Angel shrugged. “Those two had seemed to make their peace last night.”
Zach considered it. Was it possible that Matthew had been ordered to mend the fences? Or were they working together and their argument had merely been a diversionary tactic? “So Matthew woke you to take over.”
“Yes. He told me that he’d covered Pierre’s shift as long as he could and was falling asleep. This morning, the three of us talked and agreed to not say anything about Pierre’s passing out.”
“Why?”
“Pierre claimed that he’d been drugged.”
Zach hadn’t expected that. “Drugged?”
“Yes. He said that he drinks a lot. He admitted that he always drinks a lot and that last night he drank no more than normal.”
“Did he smoke any pot?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So why did he suspect he was drugged?”
“He said he never passes out after consuming that amount and that in the middle of the night he woke up and puked violently a few times.”
Zach was incredulous. “So he drinks a lot, passes out and then throws up. This is his rationale for claiming he was drugged?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“He had a headache. He claims that he’s one of those people who never has them…or had them. He said, and I believe him, that this morning was the first headache of his life.”
Even if Zach believed that, something wasn’t ringing true. “So let’s just say that he was drugged. Wouldn’t that give you more reason to report it rather than less?”
Angel frowned. “I wanted to tell you. I almost did,” he said. His face darkened as though for the first time realizing he’d been manipulated. “Both Pierre and Matthew convinced me that it would be an unnecessary distraction to the investigation. So…”
“So you covered it up.”
Angel’s head hung so low that it looked like he expected Zach to lop it off with a sword.
“All will be forgiven,” Zach said, “if you answer the God’s honest truth to this question.”
Angel looked up, his face brightening.
Zach glared deeply into his eyes—so deeply that after a moment of intense focus, a whiff of Sailor Black filled his nostrils. “What time?”
“Huh?”
“What time did Matthew wake you?”
“Just before 5 AM.” Angel’s voice was unwavering and there wasn’t a drop of sweat anywhere on his broad forehead.
“I need you to be more specific.”
“I looked at my phone once I was fully awake,” Angel said. “It was 4:48.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I was confused as to why Matthew was waking me and pissed it was so early.”
Zach stared at Rosewood’s backside. The time of the pause on Camera 8 had been at 4:37 AM. Seven minutes after Matthew claimed to have woken Angel and twelve minutes before Angel claimed Matthew had woken him. One was lying. If Angel was to be believed, Matthew was a traitor. If Zach took Matthew’s story as gospel, no pun intended, Angel was guilty. Zach stared deep into Angel’s eyes reading him for any sign of doubt or dishonesty. There was none.
“I need to tell you something else important, boss,” Angel said. “This I wasn’t hiding from you. I just found out this morning and was waiting for the right time to share it.”
“Okay.”
“The Demon Hunters have known about this gig for a lot longer than we have.”
“How do you know that?”
“Pierre slipped up this morning. It’s one of the reasons I believed the other parts of his story.”
Zach wasn’t following, and his facial expression must have shown it.
“While Pierre was lamenting his missed chance to man the control center last night, he made the comment that ‘he’d been looking forward to Demon Hour at Rosewood for a week.’”
It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Then, Zach remembered Bryce mentioning taking a plane from California. Of course. Demon Hunters had known about this investigation for longer than just a couple of days.
“He said it so casually, so off-handedly,” Angel continued. “I don’t think Matthew even picked up on it, but I did. How could he have been looking forward to it for a week if—”
“If Sci-D just got permission for the investigation a few days ago.”
“Right.” Angel ran his hand through his hair. “So boss? With all this going on, wouldn’t it make sense to keep me at the control center tonight?”
Zach smiled. “Haven’t you ever heard the axiom, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”
Angel nodded. He still wasn’t exuding enthusiasm over his assignment. “Last thing. What’s on your forehead, boss?”
Zach had almost forgotten about the oil. “Don’t worry about it,” Zach said to Angel. “It’s just something that helps me focus.”
Maybe it was the anointing oil or maybe mere intuition, but Zach knew with certainty that Angel was innocent. He was just as certain that Matthew was guilty.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Angel had walked over from Rosewood, so he rode back with Zach. Once Zach spied the mini-crowd that congregated around the main entrance, he was grateful for the company. He pulled up and honked at the security guard who took his sweet time unlocking and opening the gate.
With the commotion outside, Zach almost didn’t hear his cell buzz. It was Wendy.
He answered. “I could really use some good news.”
“Well hello to you too,” she said. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Angel and I are trying to get back into Rosewood. Apparently the fact that we’re investigating it was on TV today.”
The cell transmission couldn’t hide her excitement. “I know, right? Good Morning Chi-Town!”
“Yep. Yep. So, what do you have for me?”
“Are you someplace you can focus?”
He was pulling up the Rosewood driveway. Sara stood near the XPI van and was already glowering at him, likely for having taken too long to get the holy water.
“Of course not. But go ahead anyway.”
“Okay, well our historical research revealed something rather…well, rather disgusting.”
“Great.”
“Remember how Rebecca suggested during the tour that suicides might have been buried in unmarked graves on the Rosewood grounds?”
“They were?”
“Not only that. Zach, the burials were done on the site of the old female quarters.”
Zach was exiting the car when the news hit him. He felt ill. Suicide corpses buried under the homes—under Joey’s home?
Angel headed towards the Rosewood lobby command center. Zach put his phone against his thigh to muffle the sound. “Angel, wait. Hold up a second.”
“Sure, boss.”
He apparently hadn’t muffled it enough.
“Zach,” Wendy said, once he’d put the phone back to his ear. “Tell Angel I said hello. Please.”
When Zach did so, Angel’s face glowed. Why Wendy liked to torment him so, Zach would never understand.
“Anyway, back to the burials…”
“All right,” she said. “Dr. Johansson’s notes were pretty specific regarding those. Patrizia and I are going through all of the patient records to find out how many were buried back there, but the number is certainly in the dozens.”
Playing a hunch, Zach blurted out the question before it fully made sense in his mind. “Are you counting them forwards or backwa
rds?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean go through the records backwards. From the closing of Rosewood until the suicide.”
She sighed. “Okay, we can do that.”
“Did you find out the name of the woman found in the basement?”
“Oh sure, in our spare time.”
“Wendy…”
“Dr. Johansson was rather peculiar about that information. I’ve looked through several hospital records, but the only reference he made were the initials, P.M.E.”
“It would really help to have a first name in order to try and communicate with her tonight. ‘P’ doesn’t help much. Could it be Paula? Pamela? Patricia?”
“Penelope, Petunia, Ptolemy…”
“Wendy.”
“I know. I know. It’s just you’ve got us going in so many different directions, Zach. We’re trying to read a thousand pages of a nineteenth century doctor’s scribbled notes.”
“I know,” he said. He repeated it attempting to convey more empathy. “I know. Your work is going to be greatly rewarded.”
“I hope soooo…”
“So, is there anything else?”
“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot…again. That name you mentioned to me that sounded familiar? Paramour?”
“Yes, John Paramour,” Zach confirmed.
Wendy spoke, but her transmitted words didn’t even register in his brain when she uttered them. It was as though she’d said something in a foreign language.
“Could you repeat that?” Zach asked. Evelyn’s chilling biography of John Paramour had led Zach to suspect that he had been, at minimum, the serial arsonist, if not also the man who set himself on fire months after the female quarters burned to the ground.
This time when Wendy said it, she slowly enunciated each word. “John Paramour was the Pullman Chief of Police.”
Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum Page 17